To Save A Life
by kausingkayn
Summary: Sometimes, surviving isn't enough. Sometimes, you need more. Sometimes, you need to loose in order to gain. AU Jack/Ianto
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Yes, I have two other fics in the works, and I have not forgotten! However, I got this idea and I couldn't stop thinking about it. This is AU and the characters are going to be OOC, even though I tried to stick to their personalities. I apologize ahead of time for any facts that I mess up or get wrong, google, apparently, doesn't hold all of the answers.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, don't have to rub it in.**

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"_Sato?"_

"_Here are ready to go, Captain."_

"_Harper?"_

"_I'm here already!"_

"_Costello?"_

"_Ready when you are."_

"_Harkness?"_

"_Right here with you, brother."_

"_Cooper?"_

"_She called in sick Jack, it's just us."_

_Captain Jack Harkness sat in the cockpit of his Tornado GR4, raring to go. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly, but the image was short lived. A large smile grew across his beautiful features as he got the go ahead from control. He flipped a few switches, a feeling of bliss sweeping through him as the plane came to life. It purred like a panther, ready to leap for the kill. This was the life. "Alright then crew, you know the drill. Recon only, lethal actions weren't approved. Let's go."_

_The sound of four other GR4's met Jack's ears, and the smile grew bigger. He was given the go ahead for takeoff, and moved his plane down the runway. Slowly at first, then picking up speed. Finally, he felt the small jolt as the wheels lifted off the ground, and the feeling of his stomach sinking down to the floor. Jack let out a whoop of delight and sped up, zooming off into the night sky, the rest of his team following closely behind._

_The night sky was beautiful. They were flying well above the cloud line, and all it took was a small look upward to be bombarded with stars. Jack took a moment to marvel at them. What would it be like to reach out and touch the stars? He was jealous of the astronauts of the day, their lives revolved around going into space. Jack had tried; in fact, he had applied to become an astronaut. However, it wasn't meant to be, and he had been declined. He thought life wasn't worth living, until he discovered that the RAF allowed gay and bisexual men to join. And here he was, with his feet off the ground, flying for queen and country, but mostly for himself._

"_Approaching enemy territory." Gray's voice came through the speaker, and Jack was jolted back to the present. There would be time to star gaze later. Now, there was work to be done._

"_Alright boys, ladies, lets get this done." The Captain said, speaking into his earpiece. He leaned forward, flipping a switch to turn on his radar, and another to start the camera's mounted on the bottom of his plane. He smiled when his work was done, patting the control panel fondly. "Get 'er done, girl."_

_He sat back, his hands firmly on the controls. He listened to his team argue over the comms, and couldn't help but grin. They bickered like a pack of five year olds, but there was no group of pilots better._

'_Bleep'_

_He frowned and glanced at his radar. A small blip had appeared in the corner of the screen, and was rapidly approaching. Then, another appeared, and another. What the hell?_

"_Hey, guys, you see this?" Jack asked before radioing to control. "Control, this is Harkness, over."_

"_Harkness, this is control."_

"_Yeah, I got three…no wait. Four, five! I got five bogeys on the radar, approaching fast, over." Jack felt panic inside, but quickly shoved it down. Now wasn't the time. He glanced up, but couldn't see anything but the beautiful night sky._

"_Harkness, I don't see anything, over."_

_Jack glanced at his screen, his eyes widening. Two more dots had appeared. Then, a small alarm sounded inside the cockpit and a light lit up on his control panel. _

"_Defensive maneuvers! Now!" He screamed into his comm, violently twisting his plane. It spun away, and seconds later several large bursts of light filled the sky. One was directly where he had been flying to._

"_I'm hit! I'm fucking hit!" Came Owen Harper's voice, full of panic and fear._

_Jack forced himself to concentrate, avoiding yet another blast. Where the hell had these guys come from? He glanced out of the cockpit, and he felt like he was going to through up. Seven fighter jets. Seven fucking fighter jets, and they were aiming as _his_ team._

"_Abort! Retreat! Get the _fuck_ outta here!" He screamed over and over again. He turned on the machine guns located on his wings and started to fire at every enemy plane in sight, but he already knew it wasn't enough. He glanced over and saw Owen's parachute. Thank god he was safe._

_Another explosion rocked his plane, and Jack heard screaming over his comms. Then, machine gun fire –not his own– shot through the night sky, and he watched as Owen's parachute was riddled with holes. Tears filled his eyes, and he heard the wails of the dying man over his comms. _

"_Harkness, this is control, get out of there!"_

"_What the fuck do you think I'm doing?!" He yelled as he turned tail. "Tosh? Suzie? Gray?"_

_No answer. Nothing but static and the sound of plane metal being torn apart in the night sky. He pushed on the controls, turning his plane around. He was not going to leave when his teammates were in danger. Letting out an animalistic yell, Jack released every weapon that his little plane held, targeting as many enemy jets as he could. Jack yelled again as he watched one of the enemies go down, then that unpleasant bleeping filled his cockpit again._

_The loudest, most terrifying noise filled the air. _

_Then, nothing._

'Beep.'

'Beep.'

'Beep.'

The noise continued constantly, every two seconds, it drilled into his brain like a screwdriver. He grunted, trying to form words, to tell it to stop making so much noise. He tried to open his eyes slowly, closing them quickly when the bright light pierced through his eyes.

Whispers. There were whispers. And the shuffle of feet. That he knew for sure. There were people in the room, moving and talking and making so much _noise!_ He opened his eyes again, this time pausing to let them get used to the light. When everything came into focus, he realized that he was staring at a white ceiling. There were patterns of large squares on it, broken up only by the lights that were imbedded into the squares. He grunted and tried to move, but was stopped when a face loomed into view.

"Captain? Captain. Please don't move, calm down, everything's ok."

The voice sounded so soothing, so nice. He nodded and relaxed, his eyelids fluttering. What did the man mean, everything was ok? Of course it was ok, silly. There was one thing bothering Jack though. Where was he?

"Wh'r m'i?" He managed to get out, his tongue feeling heavy and foreign in his mouth.

"Captain Harkness, my name is Dr. Martha Jones. You're in the Veteran Long-Term Care Hospital in Cardiff. You've been through a lot."

Wait…what? Jack frowned, what the hell was she talking about? Why was he in the hospital? He struggled to sit up, feeling several tugs and pinches ad various tubes and wires became disconnected from his body. Jack tore off his blankets and tried to get out of the bed when he stopped. Something wasn't right…

He glanced at his legs. They were both wrapped in bandages, and there were several spots where it was obvious that injuries had been inflicted. His heart skipped a beat as he tried to move his toes.

They didn't respond.

Jack's eyes widened as suddenly he remembered. His heart beat faster and he started to get dizzy. The mission, the big blasts of fire as they lit up the sky. The screams of his team as they spiraled to the ground…

And then, The Captain leaned his head back, and let out an anguished howled.

**--xXx--**

Ianto Jones was jolted out of his restless slumber by a loud howl that sounded as if it came from across the hall. He frowned, the scream was almost non-human. There was so much pain coming from it, but then again, this was a place for those in pain and dying.

Ianto sighed and rubbed the grit away from his eyes. He glanced at the clock and groaned at the time. It was too early in the morning not to be asleep. He stretched out his arms and legs, feeling pins and needles as his limbs woke themselves up. He fought back a yawn and straightened his tie before glancing at the sleeping figure in the hospital bed.

She was still as beautiful as ever, her dark chocolate skin seeming to glow under his eyes. Ianto smiled and touched his hand to her cheek, softly stroking her. He watched her chest as it went up and down, up and down. The monitor next to her bed showed that she was sleeping peacefully at the moment, no bad dreams evading her brain.

Ianto took a moment just to stare at her, and he almost willed her eyes to open, her hand to twitch, anything. How long had she been in this never-ending slumber? Ianto knew the exact number of days that his love had been in the coma, yet he wouldn't ever bring himself to say the number. _Two years._

He glanced up as a nurse entered the room, bring a tray with a single coffee cup on it, the mug filled to the brim. She smiled and sat the drink down on the table next to the hospital bed.

"Morning Ianto. Brenda said you were still here, so I thought I'd bring you some coffee. Not as good as you own, of course."

He gave a sad smile and thanked her, although they both knew the coffee would go untouched.

"I'm sorry about the noise, one of our new patients just woke up, poor bloke. Such a horrible situation for such a talented young man." The nurse didn't bother to smile this time, knowing there was nothing _to_ smile about. It was not very often that the patients of this particular wing of the long-term care recovered. If any left, it was in a wheelchair or a casket.

Ianto didn't say anything, knowing there wasn't anything to say. Just another lost soul joining the pack.

The young nurse hesitated, then turned to leave. "You should go home, Ianto. Get some rest. You know we'll call you if anything happens."

He nodded, sticking his hands into his suit pockets, his eyes never leaving the woman in the hospital bed. "I know."

The nurse gave one last sad smile and a pity-filled glance at the young Welshman before leaving the room, her heels echoing as she walked down the dead hallway.

Ianto walked back over to his chair, but before sitting down he leaned over and planted a soft, loving kiss on the young woman's forehead. "Love you, Lisa."

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**-sniff-**

**It's a bit short, but I wanted to lay the ground work out for you. Please review, let me know how I'm doing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Wow, I was taken aback by the response this got, thank you so much! My inbox was overflowing with alerts and reviews! Special thanks to my reviewers and silent stalker. So here we go, some more angst for you. Hope you like it. ^_^**

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Jack sat in his wheelchair, staring out of the window. Outside, the grass flowed gently in the wind as the more eligible patients of the long-term hospital walked or wheeled around, playing outside in the calmness or just sitting, gazing out into the distance, enjoying the peace. But Jack didn't notice any of this. He was too busy staring at the sky. He glanced at the clouds, soaked in the bright blue sky, and wished with everything he had and all that he didn't to be up there again.

The sky was where he belonged, and he knew it. Up so close to the stars, soaring thousands of feet in the air, feeling like a hero to all of the world. He didn't stop the tears from falling down his cheeks, he didn't want to. They weren't just for him, though. Oh no, he wasn't that selfish. The tears were for his comrades. The doctors and nurses had told him, once he had calmed down, what had happened to his team. Owen had been shot up in the air as he was parachuting down, his body found mangled in some trees. Toshiko had been a lot more fortunate, dieing from a direct hit to her plane's cockpit. Suzie hadn't been able to eject, and had stayed in her plane till the end. Only Gray's body hadn't been found, and while there was enough blood at the crash site for the man to be dead, they didn't say it. 'Missing in action, presumed dead' the report had said. For some reason, that was worse than his brother being dead. Gray had been all that Jack had, and he had let him down, sitting here in a hospital, being well taken care of while Gray could be out there, a prisoner of war, or even dead. Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Jack reached out toward the window, wanting to get closer. But from the height of his wheelchair, he had to be several feet away from the window in order to see the skyline. Determined, he rolled a little bit forward until his feet hit the wall. He heard the thump and saw his toes bend from the sudden contact, but he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything from the waist down. 'paralysis.' They had said, along with some other large words. He hadn't heard anything solid yet, and held on to the thought that he would one day be able to walk again. That single thought –that and the fact that Gray could still be alive– kept Jack from suicidal thoughts.

He braced himself, his hands curling around the armrests of the wheelchair, and pushed upward. Jack felt himself being heaved upward, and for a moment the sky was there, closer, right out the window. Then, a shrill alarm sounded, alerted a nurse that he had attempted to crawl out of his wheelchair, and his concentration was broken. Jack fell back but hit the wheelchair at an odd angle, and instead tumbled painfully to the floor.

He lay there on the floor, not enough will power to pull himself up. He watched from a sideways view as a nurse, along with the doctor Jones that he had first seen at the place, rushed into view. Two pairs of hands reached under his arms and pulled him back up and into his rightful place in the wheelchair.

"Captain." The doctor said, hands placed firmly on her hips. "If you keep doing that, we'll have to restrict you from using your chair."

He sighed in defeat, but didn't nod or agree in any verbal way. He had already asked about going outside, but they wouldn't let him. It had been a pain to get them to allow him to even leave his bed. He had only been awake for a little under 24 hours, and he was weak. However, Jack was nothing but persistent, and the doctor had finally given in. It would have been easier to flirt with her, for she was not bad looking, and he could tell that she fancied him, if only a little. However, he wasn't in the mood for that kind of thing at the moment.

Doctor Martha Jones grabbed a hold of the back of Jack's wheelchair and pushed him over to his bed, where she lowered the railing before motioning for the other nurse to help her. Jack wanted to protest, but didn't, knowing that he wouldn't have been able to get himself back into the bed if he had wanted to. It made him sick, thinking how only a few days ago he was fully independent, and now, he was completely dependent on other people. He couldn't even go to the damn bathroom by himself; they had to get a male nurse to help him in and out of his wheelchair. He felt useless.

Once he was situated back on the bed, Martha gave him a soft smile, checked all the machines, and left him with the nurse. The young woman quickly set him up with a tray that consisted of green jello, some mashed potatoes, and some runny stuff that Jack thinks was supposed to be beef soup. He made a face, but ate it anyway, his hunger getting the best of him. He glanced up from his feast to see the nurse still standing there, watching him.

"Yeah?" Jack asked, a little annoyed.

She shook her head and left, leaving the Captain on his own. He finished his food and pushed the tray aside, then threw his blanket off his legs. Focusing, he willed his toes to move, just a little. He imagined them wiggling, moving around, his legs pumping, walking, running.

They didn't move.

He let out a sob of frustration and grabbed the sides of his legs with both hands. He didn't feel anything. He squeezed them, slapped them, hit them. Still nothing. Desperate to feel something, he reached out for his plate and wrapped his fingers around the fork. With all him might, he closed his eyes and drove the plastic utensil into his leg.

Nothing.

He opened his eyes to see blood slowly seeping from his leg, where the fork was sticking out of it. He pulled the fork out of his leg and flung it across the room, letting out an angry yell. Why was he here? Why did it have to be _him_ who survived? Jack buried his head in his hands and wept.

That was where the nurse found him when she came to take his tray away. His leg was still bleeding, and she took a moment to call for assistance before applying pressure. Jack was still shaking when Martha arrived, a look of worry on her face. The nurse moved aside, allowing the doctor to apply the pressure while she grabbed what she needed to patch up the patient.

Martha backed away, watching the nurse work, glancing ever so often at Jack, who just stared in silence, his eyes red and puffy as the young nurse worked on his leg. Then, his desperate eyes turned to the doctor, pleading begging. "Can you tell me something, Jones. Please."

"What is it, Jack?" She asked, although she already knew exactly what he wanted to know.

"Will I…" He paused, taking a moment to compose himself. "Will I ever be able to walk again?"

Martha Jones took a deep breath, then started to respond, latching on to Jack's eyes. She wouldn't look away, not when delivering this news. "We aren't completely sure, but you have experienced spinal cord damage…the paralysis is permanent."

Any hope that had been in Jack's eyes quickly drained away. His face fell even more, and he started to shake his head, slow at first, then quicker. "No….no no no..no!"

He thrust his hand out, flesh coming in contact with the wall. The young nurse working on his leg jumped back, scared. Jack reached for his food tray, which was still within reach, and grabbed it, throwing it across the room with a bang. Still uttering the string of 'nos' he grabbed his legs and flipped them over the side of the bed, pushing off with his hands. He fell to the ground, all the air being pushed out of his lungs as he landed.

Martha was already reaching in a drawer for a syringe that was full of a strong sedative. However, she placed it back when the sound of sobs came from the fallen man. She walked over to him and sat on the ground, pulling the grown man onto her lap. He clung on to her tightly, letting everything out, crying the hardest he had in a long time.

**--xXx--**

Ianto Jones walked through the front door of the long-term care unit and gave a quick smile to the nurse at the front station. It was a fake smile, like most of the ones he gave these days. The woman smiled back and gave a soft hello, using his name. They all knew his name, most people would learn it if someone came to their work every day for two years.

He took one of the coffees out of his little holder and handed it to the woman. He had taken a lunch break about half an hour ago, stopping by a small fish and chips store. He had eaten half of it, saved the rest for later, then stopped by his favorite coffee shop. It was one of the only places that made some to rival his, and he respected them for it. He ordered several coffees, for the nursing staff as well as for himself, before returning to the hospital. He didn't like being away from Lisa. Being in the room was hard, but being away was harder. He was scared that something would happen if he wasn't there. What if she woke up and he was out eating lunch? He wouldn't let that happen. Ever.

He walked passed a young woman with black hair. She was wearing a leather jacket with black jeans, and had in her hands a large brown bag that looked like it was full with personal items such as clothes and pictures. She was also holding flowers, and a large card. She smiled at him as he walked past, and he noticed that she had a distinguishable gap in between her front two teeth. Ianto didn't bother to smile back, he just kept walking. His least favorite part of the day was the long walk down the hallway.

It smelled of death and despair, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing in to the other rooms, then turning away, wishing he didn't. He paused, however, when he came to the second to last door, the one almost directly across from Lisa's. It had been empty ever since that military lieutenant died from a fever. But now, there was a man in there. His eyes were red from crying, and he looked so pale and weak. And there was this air around him, of defeat. Ianto sensed that he had once been a strong, great man. Was this the person he had heard screaming the night before? He continued to stare, until the man looked up and stared right back. Ianto, embarrassed at being caught, looked down to the ground and hustled into Lisa's room, preparing for another long day.

**--xXx--**

Jack felt like someone was watching him. Glancing up, he saw a young man in his doorway, just staring. He was wearing a very sharp suit and holding a tray that carried several cups of coffee, while his other hands held on to a book. Jack stared back, taking in his hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. Then, the man was gone, and Jack was on his own again.

But not for long.

He had barely glanced away from the doorway when a knock came, and he was forced to look up again. What he saw brought tears to his eyes. "Gwen…"

The woman looked at him, her lip wobbling. She walked forward slowly, unsteadily. She put the bag she was carrying on the ground, and placed the flowers on Jack's bedside, the card going right next to it. Then, unable to hold back any longer, she burst into tears, flinging her arms around Jack's neck. He hugged her closely, smelling her hair, her clothes, happy that she was _alive._ He wanted to cry, he really did. His eyes stung with the effort, but no tears would come. He had expended them all on the floor in the embrace of Dr Jones, and had nothing left.

Gwen finally pulled back, holding him tightly, her eyes red. "I got the news and was so scared, Jack. I should have been there…"

He shook his head, covering her hands with his own. "Don't say that, Gwen. I don't know what I'd do if everyone was…..gone."

Her eyes welled up again, but she turned, reaching for the card. "This is from the other boys from base. They all signed it."

Jack tried to smile, but wasn't able to. He glanced at the card then put it aside. He didn't want to read the fake words that were written, he didn't need a reminder of how many other men were fine and still living their lives, while he was stuck in this hell.

"And I brought some of your things." Gwen grabbed the bag from the ground and pulled out a few photos. One was of Jack and Gray, the other of Jack and the whole team. The final one was Jack in his full RAF uniform, receiving a medal from the queen herself.

Gwen sat them up on the small bedside table, then pulled out the large, antique RAF coat that flyers used to wear during the second World War. Jack had found it in an old thrift store one day and automatically fell in love. He wore the thing whenever off duty, and the sight of made Jack's heart skip a beat. He grabbed it and closed his eyes, his fingers rubbing over the rough material. He looked up at Gwen and gave a pathetic smile. "Thanks."

She nodded, then sat down in the chair next to his bed. "I called the other day, but they said you weren't ready for visitors yet."

Jack nodded, still grasping his coat. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear his team in the mess hall, eating and joking like they weren't in the middle of a war. _Almost_.

"So, do you know how long until you can get reinstated?" Gwen asked, completely innocent, not knowing about Jack's condition. However, he tensed up, and shot her a look that could kill.

"I'm not coming back." He said, choking on his words.

Gwen frowned, not understanding. "Why not? I understand what happened was horrible, Jack, but I didn't think it would stop you from flying."

Jack lost it. He had never been one for patience before, and now it was completely gone. "Understand? Do you _really_ understand, Gwen? Did _you_ hear Tosh or Suzie's screams as they were shot from the sky, or the ragged howls of Owen as he was shot to death out of the fucking sky?! No! Don't you _dare_ say you understand!" He was yelling and pointing and shaking.

"And I might as well be dead, too! I'm paralyzed, Gwen. Fucking _paralyzed!_ I can't walk! I can't fly! I can't do _anything!_" His yells turned to screams, and Gwen started to cry again, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry Jack…I didn't know…" She started, reaching out to touch his hand. But he pulled back, to angry at the situation to care.

"Just leave!" Jack pointed to the door, and Gwen listened to him, fleeing out of the room. Jack just sat there for a few moments in the silence. Then, silent sobs racked his body and he started to shake. He couldn't do this. He thought he could, but seeing Gwen, so healthy and alive, he couldn't take it anymore.

**--xXx--**

It was nearing the middle of the night when Ianto was woken. At first he thought he had awoken because of the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in, his head leaning on the cool side of the hospital bed, his fingers entwined with Lisa's. But, when he listened closely, he could hear the squeak of wheels going down the long hallway. Curious as to who was out at this time of night, Ianto got up and rubbed his eyes before poking his head out of the room.

He caught the back end of a wheelchair disappearing, and a moment later he heard the soft ding of the elevator. He knew that the long-term ward went up at least three levels, and that there were a few more above that. Ianto stepped out of Lisa's room and closed the door softly behind him before creeping down the hall. He got to the elevator just in time to see what floor the mysterious wheelchair person had gotten off at. The roof.

Now a bit worried, Ianto opened the door next to the elevator and took to climbing the steps two at a time, rushing to the top of the staircase and out into the night sky.

He was sweating when he reached the top, and when he flung the door open he gasped for breath. The night sky was beautiful, the stars shining so brightly from the roof. They twinkled and taunted, luring anyone who was watching with their promise of the universe. Ianto tore his gaze away to find a man in a wheelchair staring upward.

The Welshman slowly approached the man, realizing as he got closer that it was the same man who had caught him staring today. Ianto paused, not wanting to get any closer or interrupt the man. The man was wearing an old RAF coat, probably from the world war two era. From the dim light of the night sky Ianto could see that the man was crying.

Then, suddenly, the man turned his wheelchair and headed straight for the edge of the building. Thrown into action, Ianto started running, knowing what the man was going to do.

The older man stopped his wheelchair right before the edge of the building and slowly tried to push himself up. He pushed himself arms length out of the wheel chair, and Ianto watched his eyes close as the man let go and started to fall forward.

"No!" Ianto yelled as he propelled himself toward the man, connecting squarely with his torso and throwing both of them onto the floor of the roof, precariously close to the edge. Ianto grabbed the man and rolled him away from the edge so that they were both safe.

He lay there, panting, still holding onto the man, who was a dead weight on top of him. Ianto gently rolled out from under him and sat up, helping the man up as well. "Are you ok?"

The other man, when Ianto pulled him into a sitting position, opened his eyes slowly, frowning when he realized that he was still on the roof.

"I just want to fly." He whispered.

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**Things will get better. I promise. When, exactly...that is another matter entirely. **

**Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Here ya are again, right on time. I'm proud of myself. Once again, thanks so much to my reviewers and silent stalkers, I'm so surprised and touched at the amount of reviews and alerts I have been getting. More angsty stuff in this chapter, but I promise you it will get better. ^_^**

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Jack sat in his bed, pretending to be asleep while listening in on the conversation happening right outside of his door. The man in a suit was there, the one who had stopped him, and was talking to a nurse about his little trip out of the room. Jack was worried. If they found out _why_ he was on the roof, they would take away any privileges he had, including his wheelchair, and probably move him to some psycho ward for evaluation. He knew how these things went. He had a friend who had been captured by the enemy and was rescued after a week. The poor guy would have stayed in the crazy ward for life if he hadn't strangled himself with the IV tube.

"I heard his wheelchair, and followed him up to the roof." The suit man was saying.

"The roof?" That was the nurse. Here it came. Jack squeezed his eyes shut just a little more, praying for the words not to come.

"That's right. He was laying in the middle of the roof, just staring up at the stars. I think the poor guy just wanted to get out of this room. They do get quiet claustrophobic after a while."

Wait. Jack's eyes flew open, unable to stop himself. Did he really just hear what he thought he heard? A stranger just covered for him. But it wasn't a 'Jack didn't break the vase, mam.' It was a 'Jack didn't just try to kill himself.'

The two in his doorway talked a little bit more, then the nurse left. The suit man looked in, connecting his eyes with Jack's. However, this time, instead of walking away, he came into the room and sat down in the visitors chair with a sigh, running his hands through his rather disheveled hair.

Neither said anything for a moment, until Jack decided to speak. "Why?"

The young man glanced at Jack and let out a sigh. He knew the man wasn't asking why lying was his job, nor why he had covered for him by telling the nurse a fib. No, the Captain was asking why he saved him. "You should die for something, not nothing."

Then he stood up and faced the Captain, hesitating a moment before thrusting his hand out. It was awkward, but Jack took it, weakly shaking it, holding on to his hand a little longer than was necessary. "Captain Jack Harkness."

"Jones. Ianto Jones."

Then their hands parted, and Ianto walked out of Jack's room. The Captain watched him go, silently begging the man to stay. He was tired of being alone.

"Thank you Jones, Ianto Jones." Jack whispered once the man was out of sight.

**--xXx--**

"Well, Captain, it seems like you have another visitor!" Stated one of Jack's long-term nurses, Beth. The woman was entering his room with a large smile on her face. The man had only been in the ward for a couple of days, and the only visitor that he had gotten ended up leaving in tears. Why, the nursing staff talked about that for hours, but never reached a solid conclusion.

Jack looked up looked up from the book he was reading –Well, there wasn't much else to do– and gave a curious look. The only other real friend of his who was…breathing had been Gwen, and he hadn't exactly made her seem welcome for another visit. However, the days in the hospital were long, and he was increasingly lonely, especially since he hadn't seen the young Ianto Jones since he had 'saved' him on the roof. "Who?"

The nurse smiled again, and Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't know why they all had to do that, it was as if they were trying to make up for all of the pain and suffering going on in the ward by smiling all the time. Frankly, it was annoying. "He said he wanted it to be a surprise."

He? Jack ran through the list of men that he knew who didn't want him dead, or at least castrated. It wasn't a long list.

He didn't have to wait any longer, however, for at that moment, the mysterious man in question entered. Short, slightly curly red hair, prominent cheekbones, outfit that only a UNIT field agent would wear.

"John?"

The man gave a smile that would be classified more as a smirk, and put his hands on his hips. "Never thought I'd see the day when Captain Jack Harkness was sitting idle when there was a woman _that_ beautiful tending to his every whim."

Nurse Beth turned a bright shade of red and muttered out a thank you before leaving the room. As soon as she left, John cleared the space between him and Jack, grasping the back of Jack's head with his hands. "Hello sexy."

John mashed his lips against Jacks, the other man responding eagerly, his hands roaming John's sides and back, both men moaning at the other's skilled tongue. Then, almost like he was realizing exactly what he was doing, Jack pulled back, panting and holding the other man at arm's length. John had a confused look on his face, silently wondering _why_ Jack had stopped.

"Why are you here?" Jack asked, letting go of John.

"What, I'm not allowed to come visit an ex-boyfriend to see how he is recovering?" John crossed his arms in defense, but his eyes told a different story.

"Yeah, sure, if that is your only motive." Jack said, leaning back against his large pillows and closing his eyes. He really didn't feel like dealing with John at the moment.

The other man frowned and sat down in the chair next to the hospital bed, his hand snaking out to grab Jack's. The Captain flinched, but didn't pull away.

"I miss you, you know." John said, any humour or deception that he had previously had, gone.

Jack sighed, but stayed silent, opening his eyes to look at John. There were a few things different about the man, there were more wrinkles around his eyes, a few more tiny scars that Jack could see, and… "Is that grey hair?"

John chuckled, but didn't answer. "How are you? Really?"

Jack hesitated. Should he lie, like he did to anyone the past few days who asked him how he felt, or should he tell the truth? Should he let out everything that was building inside of him to an ex-lover? John had definitely been the wild one in their long relationship, but he had always been there as well. "Any word about Gray?"

John frowned at the obvious change in subject, but didn't call him on it. "Nothing. We still have several units out looking for him, but the chances are slim."

Jack pressed his lips together, rolling his hand into a fist then biting down on his knuckles with his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as a defense to the tears and unwanted emotions that threatened to overtake him. The Captain let out a large breath of air then opened his eyes, wiping away any hint of tears. Then he glanced back at John, determination in his eyes. "Promise me you won't stop looking."

"I…I did come here to tell you something." John said, purposefully ignoring Jack's question. "The attack on your team…we have reliable intel that says it wasn't an accident."

"Well, did you find out who did it?" Jack asked, suddenly sitting up quickly in the bed. He felt anger boiling up inside of him at the news that John had given him, and wanted to know who had done it.

John looked away and withdrew his hand from Jack's before speaking. "It was one of yours, Jack. Someone on your team."

"Stop lying." Jack said automatically, staring into John's eyes, looking for any kind of deceit or humour. Waiting for the man to laugh and proclaim it as one of his sick jokes then move on with the conversation. But all he saw was pity. Pity for him, the man who had everything he ever cared about taken from him, chewed up, and whatever left spit back in his face. He shook his head. "Stop it. Don't…don't you _dare_ pity me."

Tears –those damn tears– welled up in his eyes again. What was wrong with him? He never used to cry before, certainly not for himself. He would shed a few at a funeral for a lost comrade, to show respect, but when it came to himself or his team, he would slap them on the back, give them a reassuring squeeze of their hand, and tell then, somewhat unkindly, to man up. But this place…it leaked grief. It was as if it wanted you to break down, to cry, to pity yourself. And Jack _hated_ pity. He _hated_ this place. His situation. His life –if you could call what he had a life. He felt all of his suppressed emotions boiling up inside of him, and so he did the only thing he knew to do when he needed to express them.

He leaned over and kissed John again. He grabbed the sides of the man and tried to pull him up onto the bed. His arms shook with the effort, being weak due to inactivity in the past few days, and sore because the movements he has to make to push his wheelchair used muscles in a way that he normally didn't use them.

John, however, knew exactly what Jack wanted, and even though the other man knew that what he was about to do was wrong –taking advantage of Jack– he didn't care. He crawled onto the small hospital bed, straddling his ex lover, never disconnecting their lips. He felt Jack's desperate hands claw at his clothes and was more than accommodating, sitting up only long enough to take off all of his top layer. While he was doing that, Jack had been struggling to get out of his hospital garb, and almost snarled when John tried to help. "No."

John attached his lips to Jack's neck, slowly working downward, waiting until Jack had removed his clothes to make his way to his chest. The man's skin was pale, and it made his hesitate. What was he doing? Then Jack kissed him senseless, pouring all of his pent up anger and feelings into the task at hand, and John was lost in it all.

**--xXx--**

"Don't think I've ever done that before." John commented between pants as he rolled off of Jack, trying to situate himself on the small hospital bed without falling off.

Jack snorted, his breathing just as labored. "What, a paraplegic or in a hospital bed."

"Both." John replied, and the two men laughed.

Jack smiled, his hands laying on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as it slowed, and his breathing as it became almost normal. It was just like old times, when he and John would excuse themselves from those rare occasions when UNIT decided to have a joint meeting with the RAF and find some small, isolated closet. Owen would yell at him for days, while the others shunned him for leaving them defenseless against the rueful UNIT, but Jack would take it all as smiles and crack some jokes about them needing to get laid more…

Owen. The screams over the radio. The sounds of pure terror, then relief that was short lived. The image of the defenseless parachute being torn apart by enemy fire, forever burned in his mind. The moment of bliss was over, and suddenly Jack was disgusted. Disgusted at the man lying next to him, but mostly at himself. "Get out."

John looked at Jack in surprise. "What, was I that bad?"

Jack's eyes connected with John's. "Just leave."

The smile dropped off of John's face, replaced with a worried frown. There is was again, that pity. The Captain started to get angry again, getting ready to yell. John realized this and sat up, reaching off the side of the hospital bed for his clothes, quickly yanking them on before smoothing them down, glancing at himself to make sure he looked at least halfway presentable. John gave Jack one last glance, hoping to see something that told him that his ex-lover wanted him to stay, but there was nothing of the sort.

"When you're ready to leave, I've got room at my place." John said, hesitating by the door.

Jack just rolled over, facing the wall, staring at the bland white paint. "Don't come back." He whispered.

And John left.

**--xXx--**

Jack stayed in his room for the rest of the day, along with the next two. He drifted in and out of sleep, refusing to eat or drink. When the nurses' finally decided to force-feed him, he threw up anything they were able to get down. He wouldn't talk to anyone, and just stared at the wall or the ceiling, not even reacting when Doctor Martha came the second night and told him she would take him outside to gaze at the stars.

When he was sleeping, it wasn't peaceful. He would cry, thrashing about, calling for someone to save him. The names of his deceased team members spilled from his lips as he begged them not to leave him. Other times he would yell and scream, lashing out at any of the nursing staff that attempted to contain him. They finally had to inject him with some sedatives to calm him down long enough to wake him up. When conscious, he had no recollection of his nightmares, and reverted to staring at the walls, as silent as ever.

The whole time he was running a fever that was near lethal. Everyone was worried, afraid that when the next morning came, he wouldn't come with it.

Ianto Jones overheard this talking as he came back from lunch, toting with him the now-relied on coffee, while a bag containing the rest of his uneaten lunch was hidden safely away in his bag. Instead of burying himself in Lisa's room, he went straight into Jack's, silently closing the door behind him so not to be disturbed. The man was sleeping, tears running down his closed eyes as he turned this way and that, mumbling words incoherent to the listener. Ianto sat down the items he was carrying, and then got to work untangling the bed sheets from Jack's legs, where they had gotten all twisted. Once that was finished, the young Welshman sat down in the visitors chair, which he had moved directly next to the bed, and reached into the inside pocket of his suit. Withdrawing a small book of poems, he began to read.

Ianto's voice was soft, yet it carried. His soothing tone made its way into Jack's unconscious state, falling over him like a blanket. There was no outward sign at first, but slowly, very slowly, the mumbling stopped, and so did the tears. The Captain's arms stopping thrashing, and for the first time in the past few days, Jack slept peacefully.

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**cue the -Awww-s**

**Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Ah, I'm very happy how this turned out, it's exactly how I saw it, which doesn't happen very often... Special thanks to my reviewers and silent stalkers, luv you guys, as always!**

**Also, me and a few authors have talked about this, and we think it would be a good idea to make twitter accounts, so that reviewers and followers can follow us on twitter to learn about updates before they happen, give input, help with writers blocks, and maybe even get short sneak peaks and one liners from upcoming chapters. Since all of you are authors as well, you can join in and tell your readers so they can follow you! Thought it would be a good idea, let me know what you think. I've already made an account, the username is the same, kausingkayn. All you have to do is search for that name, or type it in after the normal URL. If this happens to be breaking any of FanFictions ruled which I may have missed when I looked for them, please let me know.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone...except for Beth. Don't really know where she came from, either...**

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When Jack woke, he had no recol**lection of his dream.**

There were tearstains on his face, and several small bruises on his arms, but all Jack could think about was that voice. Someone had been in his room, just talking. The words, he couldn't remember, in fact, he never remembered hearing words. All he remembered was the soothing, calming, beautiful tone that had invaded his mind, and driven out any doubts or fears. After waking up, Jack had felt like he had actually gained some energy from his slumber, instead of coming back to consciousness feeling as if he had been fighting a loosing battle while asleep. The room was empty, but there was a used coffee cup sitting on his small bedside table, a telltale sign that he had received a visitor.

Feeling weak beyond belief and ravenously hungry, Jack decided to investigate. He struggled to sit up in the bed, and let out a large breath of hot air when he realized that his wheelchair was _just_ out of reach. Hooking his arm on the side of the bed to anchor himself, the Captain reached out, his fingertips inches away from the handle of his wheelchair. He leaned over a little more, and felt his fingers slipping. Letting out a surprised yelp, he tumbled to the floor, his body making a large thud as he came in contract with the ground. The wind knocked out of him, Jack just stayed there for a moment, his eyes closed, his breathing labored. When he opened his eyes, instead of getting the full view of the ceiling, he was instead looking into the eyes of a completely amused Welshman, whose hand was outstretched in assistance. Jack swung his arm up and clasped the man's hand, pulling himself up into a sitting position. The Welshman let go of Jack's hand and grabbed the wheelchair, pulling it close enough for Jack to pull himself up onto it. He stood there, watching, not offering assistance. He had seen the look of determination in the Captain's eyes, and didn't want to offend him by asking if he needed help.

Jack got himself situated comfortably in his chair, then folded his arms across his body, more to hide the shaking than anything else. He was weak, and he didn't like it. If he was going to rot away in some god-forsaken hospital for the damned, he might as well look good doing it.

Ianto stood there, smoothing down his tie, realizing that Jack was waiting for something. Coughing, he grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and started to push him toward the cafeteria. "Lunch?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Jack said, a small smile flitting to his face before he pointed out the door and down the hallway, where he knew that the cafeteria was located. The man hadn't been out of his room for food since he had gotten there, but he rode past the kitchen during his long trek one day, and he remembered exactly where it was.

After each of them picked out their food, Ianto had pushed Jack up to the line, where they waited between a doctor and another patient for their turn. When they got to the front of the line, Jack tried to charge the lunch to his room, but Ianto just chuckled and handed the woman his credit card.

They chose a table that was in the corner of the establishment, but near a large window. It was bright outside, a perfect day. They dug in, silent for a few moments as both enjoyed their food. Ianto had bought a sandwich, which he had cut into four meticulous pieces, and was eating slowly, chewing each bite thoroughly. He had already tucked his napkin into his collar to stop any stray crumbs from attacking his suit. Jack, on the other hand, was not as neat. He had piled food on his tray, choosing a sandwich, two slices of pizza, some chicken strips, and a hoagie.

"You should slow down." Ianto stated, pointing with his pinkie, his other fingers on his hand being preoccupied by sandwich. "You'll get sick."

Jack waved away the suggestion, wolfing down another poor chicken strip before washing it away with a large swig of water. "Haven't eaten in…what day did you say it was?"

"Thursday." Ianto replied, glancing outside before back at the Captain, who was nodding.

"Right, that's three days, I think." He paused then, and frowned. "Don't really remember much."

"Good thing, you were a mess."

Awkward silence ensued, broken only by the occasional rustling of napkins and large crunches. Ianto finished his lunch and cleaned up, using his napkin that he had taken from his collar to wipe away any crumbs he had left behind. Then, he slid a little in his chair and took out his small book of poems and opened it to an earmarked page, his eyes running over the well-known lines. He had read this book front to back so many times, but it passed the time, and stopped him from looking at the Captain.

Jack stopped, pizza halfway to his mouth when he saw the book of poems. He glanced up at Ianto's face, then back down to the book, and it clicked. The smooth, Welsh voice, the beautiful yet unrecallable words. "Thanks." He muttered.

Ianto looked up from his book, just catching Jack's mumbled word. He gave a small smile and nodded, then went back to reading.

Jack finished his food and Ianto threw all the trash away. "Where to next, Captain?"

"Outside, my slave." He earned a whack on the head for that one.

They ended up outside near a bench, where Ianto expertly parked the wheelchair before sitting down on the bench himself. Jack let his head fall back and closed his eyes, allowing the suns rays to warm his face. "Why are you here, Ianto Jones, in this horrible place?" Jack asked suddenly, his eyes still closed to the sun.

Ianto stiffened, then sighed, letting his posture go lax as he slumped. If Jack had been paying attention, he would have noticed how tired the man looked, and how _young_ he appeared. "My girlfriend, she's…."

Jack opened his eyes this time, to stare at the man. "I know why she's here. I asked why _you_ are here."

"I can't just leave her." Ianto snapped, instantly feeling horrible.

"But you don't have to spend every second here." Jack pointed out, his hand reaching out to take Ianto's. The Welshman flinched when the man touched him, but he didn't do anything. "You're rotting away in here, like me. Only you have the ability to walk out."

Jack squeezed the Welshman's hand, and was surprised to feel him squeeze back. "Not all injuries are physical."

Jack nodded, the all too familiar screams echoing in his head. He closed his eyes, waiting for the memory to pass. "I'm going to get out here, Ianto."

The Welshman sighed, not understanding the true meaning to Jack's words. "I heard the nurses. They said you only need a few more weeks and some upper body workout and you'll be discharged."

But Jack shook his head. "No Ianto. I'm going to _walk_ out of here."

This time, when Ianto looked into Jack's eyes, he saw fierce, stubborn determination. And he believed him.

**--xXx--**

Jack wheeled down the hallway to his hospital room, intent on taking a shower, then just being lazy for a while. He had just come from the small gym that the long term section of the hospital had, and was completely wiped out. He had been hitting the gym hard the past week and a half, using it to work off all of his pent up frustration and anger, and to keep his mind off of the useless feeling that had been invading his mind way to much lately. He was working toward building back his upper body complex that he had before being sent to the long term care. He found himself growing stronger every day.

His chair made an annoying squeaking sound as it made it's way down the hallway, and Jack paused to wipe away a bead of sweat that was threatening to drip into his eye. He continued the motion, pushing his hand through his sticky hair, causing it to stick up even more than it already was.

Jack got to his room, but instead of going inside, he went a little further, stopping in the doorway of Lisa Halliet's room, staring in at the young man who was sitting next to the bed.

Jack and Ianto had grown close over the past week and a half. They had made it tradition to get together every day for lunch, and sit outside, may it be rain or shine. It was during those long lunch breaks that they talked to each other and expressed everything that had been bundling up inside. The first couple days, it might as well have been raining, with both men shedding enough tears to flood a small country. It had been strange, seeing the younger man cry. He didn't sob or shake; the only sign of tears were the tracks of water that silently fell down his face. Ianto's voice didn't even crack, it only grew softer.

Jack knew he was a loud crier. He shook, he gasped, he let out these weird cries. He was never one to be the silent mourner, when he was sad, he let people know it. Ianto had been the first one he talked to that he actually said their names. _Tosh, Owen, Suzie, Gray…_

And as the days went by, Jack found his heart lightening every time he saw the young man, and he would get these little butterflies in his stomach when they touched…Jack knew he was falling for the young man, and it hurt him. Ianto was so dedicated to Lisa, the young woman that he had thrown the past two years of his life for away, and would gladly do so for the rest of his life. It wasn't healthy, although Jack wasn't really the one to talk about that.

He was living a breathing for two things now. One being the young Welshman who wore cute suits and made him smile. The other was the fact that he _would_ walk again, no matter what it took. Jack had been researching, looking for a doctor, any doctor, who could help him up on two feet again. But he had yet to find him, the _right_ doctor. But Jack would keep looking, if it was the last thing he ever did. And he was fine for settling with just looking for someone, but after a few days he grew wrestles. Jack had been found twice in the hallway, sprawled out on the floor, his wheelchair just out of reach. One of those times the handrail that was nailed into the wall was on the ground with him. Jack had also demanded that his wheelchair be left on the other side of the room; every day he would drag himself across the room to get it. Every day, the nurses whispered more, the doctors exchanged desperate glances, and the therapist asked more and more questions. 'Why are you doing this to yourself, Jack?' they would say. 'You need to leave the past in the past, and look to the future.'

But what future did Jack have, if it wasn't flying? The only real certificates he had was his GED from high school. He had applied to NASA's astronaut training facility right out of school. After being turned down because of his sexual orientation, Jack had, after lots of moping and depression, signed up for the Royal Air Force. The end. He couldn't do anything else, and didn't _want_ to do anything else. He couldn't fly without legs, and he didn't want to do anything else, so was there really a choice? Sure, he knew there were plane prototypes that would held the handicapped fly, but it was a joke. Couldn't climb higher than ten thousand feet, it would be like teasing him, taunting him, screaming in his face that he couldn't do it. That Captain Jack Harkness wasn't good enough. That he was a failure.

It was these thoughts that drove him.

Jack spent several seconds longer staring at the Welshman before making his presence known, knocking lightly on the door. Normally, he wasn't one for those kind of formalities, but there was something about Ianto that made Jack want to straighten his philosophical tie and address everyone as 'ma'am' or 'sir.'

Ianto looked up and gave a weak smile before gesturing for the older man to enter. Jack did just that, wheeling up close to the chair. The Welshman didn't look very good –although, most people who were in this place didn't. His eyes had those permanent circles under them, which looked more prominent in the darkness of the room. The shades were drawn, the only light coming from the artificial lights in the hallway.

Jack didn't say anything, he didn't need to. He just slipped his hand into Ianto's, giving a small smile as he felt the man squeeze back. Ianto knew that Jack was gay, it was one of the first things that the Captain had told him. Jack wasn't disgusted at his sexuality like some, and didn't want to befriend Ianto, and then have the man find out. Some people are close-minded, and Jack didn't want to deal with _that_ again. But the other man had just gave a closemouthed smile, a nod, then they went on talking about whatever it was they were talking about. It had made Jack feel warm for the first time in a long time.

Ianto leaned over, resting his head on Jack's shoulder, closing his eyes and breathing shallowly. "I miss her."

"I know Yan, I know." Jack cooed, using his free hand to run through Ianto's hair. The nickname, the term of endearment, had just kinda happened. Jack had used it, and the other man had stiffened up, then promptly got up and left. Jack had found him several minutes later in Lisa's room, crying his heart out. Turns out that was _her_ name for him. Jack had stayed in Lisa's room that night, camping out of the floor and re-telling old war stories until the younger man fell asleep. Jack had started to cry as well as he remembered some of his missions, but he had kept talking. It wasn't his turn to be comforted that night, it was Ianto's.

The next day, Jack had tried hard not to use any other forms of nicknames, until Ianto had said that it was ok. He had looked Jack straight in the eye and said that, truthfully, he had missed it.

"You smell." Ianto muttered into Jack's neck.

The Captain chuckled and continued to run his fingers through Ianto's hair, watching the man as he drifted off to sleep. He was so young, but looked so old. Jack had been surprised when Ianto had told him how old he was. _Only 24…_

That was how old Gray had been. Jack blinked rapidly. Now was not the time to think about that. So instead he focused on the more regulated aspects of the room. The beeping of the machine as it told everyone that its occupant was still alive and breathing. _If you could call that alive._

Jack glanced down at his own legs, which were covered by sweatpants. He had thrown out all of the shorts that the nurses had given him, he didn't want to be able to see his legs, to see the two little tiny sticks that they were becoming. Dr. Jones had said he was one of the lucky ones, that his legs were atrophying at an enormously slow rate for someone who was paralyzed. But Jack saw it as anything but lucky.

He soon found himself drifting off to sleep, the steady beeping of the machines and the constant beat of Ianto's heart helping speed things along.

**--xXx--**

"Captain?" a pause. "Captain?"

Jack mumbled something incoherent, twisting a bit before waking up. When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself in his own hospital bed, instead of in his wheelchair with Ianto, where he had fallen asleep. He frowned; the Welshman must of woken up and brought him over here. It was becoming an easier job, his legs growing less and less heavy by the day. The Captain sat up slowly in the bed, rubbing his eyes. A hand running through his hair reminded him of the shower he needed, and he glanced at the nurse, giving a small smile. "Yes?"

The nurse – it was Beth – gave him a smile and gestured to the wheelchair, which she was holding on to. "Doctor Jones wants to see you."

Jack raised his eyebrow and threw off his covers, using his arms to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Beth started to wheel the chair closer, but Jack stopped her with a shake of his head. Hesitantly, he grabbed the side of his bed and pushed himself up. He was standing; all of his weight being balanced through his hands. Beth stood there, letting go of the wheelchair and preparing herself for what would happen next. Jack swung forward, willing his legs to move. As always, they got left behind, causing him to come crashing to the ground.

Beth got there just in time, grabbing Jack before he hit the floor. "Captain, I ask you every time _not_ to do that. You are going to hurt yourself."

Jack gave a fake grin. "As long as you're here to catch me, I don't see the problem."

Beth smiled, hiding the pity in her mind as she helped Jack into the wheelchair. Once they were set, she steered him toward Martha's office.

"Did the good doctor say why she wanted to see me?" Jack asked.

Beth shook her head. "She just said it was important."

Jack frowned as his mind started to go through all of the things that the doctor would want to see him for. Maybe something came up on his last bunch of tests. Could they had misdiagnosed him? He shook his head. No, they would have caught that ages ago. Then, his mind took a turn for the worse. Maybe they found something else, something bad. Could this be the last time he would grace this hallway?

By the time the two of them made it to Dr. Jones' office, Jack had thoroughly freaked himself out. Beth just gave him a smile and knocked on the door for him, then turned and walked away. Jack was so distracted he didn't even shoot a leering thank you the nurses way.

It only took seconds for the door to open, revealing Dr. Jones in all of her splendor. If the situation had been different, Jack would have made sure that every word that came out of his mouth was flirtatious – hey, he's gay, not blind.

As it was, they maintained an almost-friendly relationship, Jack never able to offer her anything more, mostly because he could never get the memory of her telling him of his paralysis out of his mind.

"Jack." She said, a large smile on her face, causing Jack's heart to lift a little. Maybe he had been over exaggerating in his thinking. Martha took a step back, allowing Jack into her office. He wheeled in, and took up post next to a sitting chair. Martha gave a slight frown, the ends of her lips twitching downward slightly, before sitting down in her own chair, moving a bit to get comfortable.

"I've been doing a little bit of research Jack, and I think I found exactly what you need." She folded her hands and used them to prop her chin up, staring at Jack expectantly. He stared back, a blank, confused look in his eyes. What was she talking about?

Martha continued. "Jack, I found the right kind of doctor."

The room was deathly silent. Even the crickets decided now was not the time to chirp. Jack sat stone still in his chair, not daring to move as his mind ran over the words that Martha had just spoken, making sure that he had not misheard. "Are you saying…"

"Yes Jack." Martha said, no longer able to hide her excitement. "You will be able to walk again."

**--xXx--**

Ianto stopped by Jack's room on his way to Lisa's, wanting to check and make sure that he was still asleep. The man's bed, however, was empty. Ianto shrugged and walked the extra few steps to his initial destination. Jack wasn't there either. The Welshman took up his post in the visitor chair and leaned back. He had kind of been hoping that Jack had been around somewhere, Ianto found that when he was around, the future –and the present– didn't look as bleak as it did when he was alone.

Ianto had been thinking about the man a lot lately, along with spending a ton of time with him. It was strange, normally, Ianto kept to himself. He was the kind of person who went home every day right after work, only to return the next day. He didn't have many friends, and those he did have were Lisa's first. The only times he would go out were if Lisa was with him, and even then it had taken some pleading. Ianto had never taken it among himself to go out and socialize before.

Of course, his friendship with Jack hadn't exactly started out normally. Foiling a suicide attempt was more than likely not written down anywhere in a friend etiquette book. But, the strange situations aside, Jack had been one of the only people that Ianto had ever felt comfortable opening up to. He had told the man things that Lisa didn't even know –a pang of guilt shot through the young Welshman as he glanced at the sleeping beauty. Oh, if only all it took was a kiss.

Ianto stood up and leaned over the bed, brushing his lips across Lisa's. They were cold and unresponsive. How long had it been since he had felt something warm and alive against his lips? Ianto could tell someone the exact day, if they were to ask. Jack had been the first warm touch he had gotten in a long time. Even if Ianto wouldn't admit it, it felt amazing to finally feel something warm in his hand, watch Jack's eyes as he blinked, his facial expressions –which were oh so expressive. He needed that, the feeling of being a live. Someone who could talk, who was awake.

Ianto's hands shook as he lowered himself back down into his chair. It wouldn't last very long, his saving grace from the world of death and coldness. He had heard the nurses talking. Jack was going to be released soon, very soon. He was able to take care of himself, and while they were still worried about his mental health, they were sure that he wouldn't be thinking of killing himself any time soon.

Ianto let out a shaky breath and realized he was crying again. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and mentally scolded himself. _You've been alone for two years, you can deal with it for a few more._ Right?

He glanced at Lisa, another feeling of guilt hitting him. When did he start thinking of himself as alone?

He reached out to grab Lisa's hand and rubbed his thumb over her cool skin gently, zoning off, his eyes growing unfocused on the wall un front of him. The slight feeling of a squeeze jolted him out of his trance. Ianto's eyes focused on Lisa's hand…he could have sworn that he felt…

Slowly, Lisa's eyelids began to flicker.

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**'Ey, I said things would get better, didn't I?**

**Reviews would be awesome!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: This chapter is structured a bit differently, the timeline being a bit skewed, but it was the best way to get all the scenes in that I wanted. Also, I know this is - I think - my shortest chapter, but as my teachers should say, Quality is better than Quantity. Also, you are looking at one more, ****_maybe_ two more chapter. I know where I want this to go, and how it will end, just not sure how long it will take to get there.**

**Thanks to all of my reviewers and silent stalkers! Couldn't do this without you!**

**Also, follow me on twitter! Find me at /kausingkayn.**

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She lay there, unmoving – blank. Her chest rose and fell, just slightly faster than before. Her hands were still as cold as before, and she was unresponsive to his touch, but Ianto knew that something had changed – that something, _somewhere_ inside, had woken up.

Her eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling, but seeing nothing. She wouldn't blink, her pupils didn't dilate, and her eyes didn't twitch when he waved his hand in front of them. The doctors, they said it was just a reaction – a twitch – a _very_ delayed reflex. But Ianto thought differently. It was her way of telling him not to give up, that she was in there, somewhere, trying to get out. She just needed time.

He hadn't left her room since she had 'spoken' to him. Didn't leave from his chair, didn't change his clothes – he didn't allow himself to. What if she woke up when he was gone? What if she was scared and needed him to hold her, but all she got was a 'sorry, he was out for a bite?' Ianto wouldn't forgive himself.

Two days. He had been sitting in that chair for two days. Stubble covered his normally clean chin. His suit was rumpled and his tie was drooping. His hair was far from being it's meticulous self. No food, the only refreshments being the small cups of water that the nurses had brought in. They had brought in a tray of food for him the first day, but it had just sat there – Ianto had lost his appetite.

A noise caused him to jump – it had been so quiet the past few hours that any noise startled him. His eyes zeroed in on Lisa, and he let out a disappointed breath as he realized that the sound didn't come from her or any of the machines monitoring her. Then his eyes turned toward the door, where they fell upon Jack in his wheelchair. The man was sitting there in the doorway, his arms laying on a large duffel bag sitting in his lap, a sad look on his face. Ianto would have rolled his eyes, but that would have required energy. Instead, he just stared back with dull, tired eyes. Jack should have been happy – and long gone by now, if the Welshman's internal clock was still working. Jack opened his mouth, ready to say something, but Ianto turned his back, not prepared to hear the man's words – scared that he would break, finally start to cry.

Ianto didn't even hear the squeak as the wheelchair turned and left.

"_Ianto! Ianto! Yan! …. Damn it!"_

_Jack's loud and enthusiastic voice rang out through the ward as he sped down the hallway in his wheelchair, crashing into the wall as the corner cut a sharp right. He quickly corrected his course and moved even faster, his arms pumping as they flew over the large wheels. It was the fastest that Jack had ever gone and his arms were burning, but he didn't notice – that or he didn't care. His head was too full of the words he had just heard, and the information he had been given. The small printed block letters on the sheet of stationary were imprinted in his head and flashed in front of his eyes, causing his smile to grow even larger than he thought possible. Jack couldn't even remember the last time he had smiled this big – felt this _alive_. _

"_Ianto!" Jack flew past the man, who was standing right outside of Lisa's hospital room, looking in through the small glass panel of the door. The Captain quickly braked and spun around, rolling up – slowly – to the Welshman. Jack hesitated for a heartbeat, noticing how shaken the younger man looked. His voice toned down, and worry seeped into his words. "Yan…you ok?"_

_Ianto turned and looked at Jack, as if just realizing he was there. He shook his head and blinked a few times and gave a small, unconvincing smile. "Yup. I'm fine."_

_Jack raised his eyebrow and craned his neck, trying to look into Lisa's room to figure out why Ianto was so distracted. He was too far down, however, and all he could see was the pattern of the grain on the wood they used to make the doors. He mentally shrugged, and excitement overwhelmed him again as he remembered exactly why he had been screeching down the hallway to begin with. "It's happening, Ianto! I'm – I'm getting my legs back! I'm going to be able to walk – to run – to fly! I'm going to be able to fly again!"_

_He grabbed the man with both hands at his elbows and shook him as he yelled with excitement, hardly able to stop from laughing. Jack pulled himself out of his wheelchair and hung onto Ianto, hugging the life out of the man. The Welshman reacted, hugging his back, a large smile growing on his face. "I'm…I can't believe it, Jack!"_

_Jack pulled back a bit, unburying his face from Ianto's stomach. He reached up and kissed the other man gently on the lips, then squeezed the air out of his lungs again, unaware of the small blush that had crawled onto Ianto's cheeks. Jack finally sat back in his wheelchair and looked at the other man directly in the eyes, reaching out and taking his hand, holding it tight. "I…I want you to come with me."_

_The smile dropped off of Ianto's face and he pulled his hand from Jack's grasp. "What."_

_Jack's smile dropped a notch, but he didn't stop. "I want you to come with me! Martha said I needed someone to help me through all the prep and recovery after. You – you're all I have."_

_But Ianto had turned and was staring once again through the window – at Lisa, lying on the bed. "How can you just ask me to leave? To leave her, Jack? She's all _I've _got!"_

_Jack slumped in his chair. "Ianto, you've thrown away two years of your life for her – don't you think that's enough? You need to live again, start over! Please – come to America with me."_

_This got Ianto to turn around, anger sparking through his grief-filled eyes. "Enough?! I loved her Jack! Does that mean anything to you? I – I can't just _leave_ and go to America! I have a life here! With Lisa!"_

"_Lisa?" Jack asked, disbelieving. "You mean the woman who is rotting away in that bed? I hate to break it to you Ianto, but she's gone!"_

"_Don't say that!" Ianto screamed. He turned around and before Jack knew what was happening, he got hit square in the jaw. He grunted in surprise as he was pushed backwards by the force. He hadn't locked his wheels, and as the chair rolled back a little, it caught and tipped sideways, dumping him out and onto the floor. He struggled to get up, make eye contact, his anger having taken him over. He should have stopped, should have just stayed there, silent, until Ianto realized what he had done. They would have hugged and said sorry and moved on. But Jack couldn't do that. Not now. "You're pathetic. You complain about being here, in this situation, but you do _nothing!_ If you love her so much, why haven't you pulled the plug? Let her die! Anything is better than being a vegetable!"_

_Ianto, jaw set, tears streaming down his face, kicked the wheelchair, sending it spinning several feet away from the fallen man, where it remained on its side. "You can say that, can't you, because that decision was made for you when everyone that you were responsible for died!"_

_Then he yanked open the door to Lisa's room and slammed it shut, falling against the wood as soon as it had closed. Ianto slid down until he hit the floor and just stayed there, pulling his knees to his chin then wrapping his arms around his legs. He buried his face and allowed himself to cry. Anger because of the words that Jack had yelled, frustration because he couldn't do anything about the situation, sadness because the one woman he had ever loved was lying there – all but dead, and the one man who made him smile was leaving. He cried it all out until there was nothing left._

_Jack felt his arms shake underneath him, and he allowed his arms to cave, bringing him to the ground once more. And there he lay, silent tears falling down his face – no sobbing, hiccupping – just tears, until one of the nurses came on her rounds and found him there._

Captain Jack Harkness sat in the airport, staring at the cheap television plastered on the wall, not really paying attention as the images flickered past. His hands gripped the small bag that he was carrying onto the plane – the majority of his belongings all fit in a medium sized duffel bag that he had checked. He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt, buttoning the cuff, unbuttoning it. He glanced down at his legs then back up at the screen, his eyes riveted on the time. He only had a few minutes until they would start boarding. Only a few minutes to say goodbye to Cardiff – to Wales – To England. Then he would be in the air, the next land he would touch would be American soil. Jack reached into his pocket and looked at his phone, half wishing for a missed call to be blinking at him. He flipped it open and scrolled to his contacts, where he started at the name "Ianto Jones" for several minutes before snapping it shut. The man had made himself clear, he didn't want to bother him.

"Attention passengers, we will now start boarding of flight 3342 with service to Los Angeles, California, United States. Passengers who are in need of assistance or have small children under the age of five, please have your ticket ready and approach the gate."

Jack stuffed his phone back into his pocket and straightened up in his wheelchair, giving the television one last glance before wheeling himself up to the gate, his ticket sticking out of the pocket on his carry-on. He passed the paper to the flight assistant standing behind the desk without a smile of a flirtatious comment. He didn't protest as she wheeled him down the ramp and into the plane. He withheld any innuendo that came to mind as she and another attendant helped him into his seat and asked him if he needed anything.

Once he was settled, the two women gave him a generic smile before going to help with the other people who were boarding. Jack was situated in the window seat of his row, and he turned himself in his seat in order to get a better view of the outside. The sight he was taking in wasn't exactly the best view of Cardiff – all he could see was the tarmac and blinking lights, the metal buildings of the airport and the planes rolling around. But it was enough, and as he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, his breath caught. Jack closed his eyes and sat back in his chair. He should be so excited! He was going to America to get his legs back – to be able to walk again, to fly again. He was getting the only thing he wanted…so why did he feel like this?

He glanced at his cell phone again, frowning as it only showed him the time. No missed calls.

"_You'll be leaving in two days." Martha said as she stood up from behind her desk and walked to her filing cabinet. She fitted the key into the hole and opened the top drawer with a click. She took out a file then closed it, locking the drawer once more. She then handed the information to Jack, who was still reeling in surprise. "His name is Doctor John Smith. He's an American, and is _very_ good at what he does."_

_Jack opened the file, his hands working on their own. His mind was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that he would be walking again. He still couldn't believe it – he was waiting for someone to pop out from a corner and yell 'surprise!' But the longer he waited, and the more seconds that passed by without anyone yelling that word, he grew more and more excited._

"_I know two days is really abrupt, but it was that or nothing. You have no idea how much I had to go through to get yourself on this guy's list, Jack, and even though the rate of your atrophy is miraculously slow, if I had waited any longer, you wouldn't be a candidate for this. There are hundreds of paraplegics lined up behind you for this, it was now or never." Martha rested her hand comfortably on Jack's shoulder. "I pulled _a lot_ of strings for this – I believe that you are the most qualified person for this, but you aren't guaranteed to be chosen…"_

"_I…I don't know what to say, Doc." Jack said, wiping the tears of joy that were starting to spill over. "You've…you're…"_

_He drifted off, turning and embracing the woman in a large huge. "I'd kiss you if I didn't think I'd get slapped…." Jack mumbled, and Martha laughed, kneeling down so that she could get level with the Captain and give him a real hug. After the moment was over, Jack turned back to the right situation in his seat and started to read the pamphlet._

_It was some kind of 3-step process. He would be going to a clinic located in Los Angeles. For two months he would go through some kind of prep process, including this new, clinical electro-shock therapy to reverse the atrophy in his legs – a process that was invented by the wonderful Doctor Smith. After the two month period, he would go through major surgery on both legs, during which the Doctor would implant small chips in all of the main joints of his legs. These chips, each working as mini computers, will interact with a brace that Jack would have to wear on both of his legs. There would be a large pack he would have to strap on his back, which housed the battery life and the central computer for the device. There would be a mini computer on Jack's wrists, which he would type in a command, such as climb up the stairs or sit down. The mini computer would send a signal to the pack on his back, which in turn would tell the chips in his legs what to do. The braces would help him stay upright, since his legs weren't actually doing any work. He would also have to walk around with crutches. It certainly wasn't a miracle, but it was damn close. He would never be able to run or do much beyond basic actions, but it was better than rotting away in a wheelchair. The last leg of the process was learning how to use the actual equipment. The brochure stated that it could take anywhere from a month to a year. _

_Jack stopped at one part of the information and backtracked, reading it again. It preferred that you brought someone along with you, to help with the pre and post operation therapy, along with moral support. Of course – it said – if he would rather attempt this on his own, a personal nurse would be assigned. But Jack, after reading those words, had one name to pop into his mind, and suddenly, he couldn't wait to tell him. _

"Attention passengers, flight 3342 is about to pull out, please remain in your seats until we take flight. At this time, please turn off all cell phones and electronic devices and turn your attention to the flight attendants as they go over some safety information."

A beep followed the words, and the plane intercom turned off. Jack opened his eyes and dug his fingers into his pocket, giving a small smile to the woman who had sat down next to him, who was doing the same. His finger hovered over the 'off' button, and as he was about to hit it, it started to ring.

'_Ianto Jones' calling._

Jack answered it without a second thought. "Hello?"

"Captain Harkness? This is Lisa's nurse, Jessica. I – I know that you are about to leave, but something has happened…"

"What is it?" Jack sad, sitting up straight in his seat.

"It's about Lisa…she's…she's passed away." The nurse said, and her voice was strained, as if she had been yelling or crying recently.

Jack's heart automatically plummeted as he thought about Ianto, and what he must be going through. The planes engines turned on, and the vibrations shot through his body. A flight attendant approached him, telling him to turn off his phone. He ignored her. "What happened? Is Ianto alright?"

"Actually, sir, that's why I'm calling. Mr. Jones, well, he's gone a bit nutters…he won't let us take Lisa's body, claiming that she isn't dead. When we try to talk to him, he just clams up – won't let us near him or the body…only thing he's said in the past hour is your name."

All around Jack, he felt the plane begin to move toward the tarmac, heading toward the take-off lane.

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**Don't kill me. Or maim me. Or anything else that your imagination can come up with. ^_^ Reviews would be loverly!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Ok, this is extremely short, and I'm sure that most of the stuff I did with the airlines is complete bull-crap, but I blame it on plotconvenientism. It's a real word. Kinda.**

**This chapter is all my mother's fault. Blame her. I was having trouble coming up with how to start the next chapter, and I was bouncing my ideas off of her when she was like, "Ashley, what if you did this?" and I was all like "That's brilliant! OMG!" and here you go! Special thanks to my reviewers and silent stalkers. Love you guys! **

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Hannah felt her cheeks start to ache from the fake smile she had plastered onto her face since arriving at work that morning. She had already been on two flights, one of which she had a drink spilled all down her uniform. She ended up having to change into her spare one in the first class bathroom – no matter what they said, first class bathroom wasn't any roomier than coach.

She picked up the microphone in from of her and spoke into it, falsifying the cheerfulness in her voice as her eyes scanned over the crowd. "Attention passengers, we will now start boarding of flight 3342 with service to Los Angeles, California, United States. Passengers who are in need of assistance or have small children under the age of five, please have your ticket ready and approach the gate."

Then she clicked the button off and moved to her post by the gate, ready to turn away passengers trying to get on early. Her back momentarily facing the crowd, she gave a tired look toward her co-worker, who returned it with sympathy.

When Hannah turned back around, she found herself facing a man in a wheelchair – a lone duffel bag sitting on his lap, a forlorn expression written all over his face. A face that, once glanced over, proved to be _very_ attractive. Hannah's eyes zoomed in on his fingers, and her smile turned into a genuine one when she realized that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. "Ticket please, sir?"

The man barely made eye contact, giving a weak smile as he handed over his boarding pass. Hannah took it and scanned it, glancing at the name printed on the paper. Jack Harkness. She liked that name. Handing the rest of the ticket back to the Mr. Harkness, Hannah walked around and gripped the handles of his wheelchair. "Right this way, Mr. Harkness."

As she wheeled him down the cold makeshift corridor to the plane's entrance, she wondered about the man's situation. The few seconds that his gaze had met her eyes, she had seen so many emotions underneath. Grief, guilt, pain – but there was also happy emotions in there as well. Maybe he was coming home after loosing his legs in the war – she guessed he had been in the military from the old RAF coat he was wearing. He was way too young looking to have been in WWII, but she knew several old military men who would wear antique coats. They thought it looked good. A majority of the time it made them look geeky, but even with this man sitting down, it fit him well.

"Hold on please, sir." Hannah said as she rolled him across the barrier of hallway and plane. His wheelchair fit down the isle perfectly, and she slowly made her way down to his seat. She took his duffle bag from him with a smile, her heart skipping a beat when he returned it. "Ok, I'm going to help you into your chair now, sir, if you don't mind."

He hesitated, and opened his mouth as if to argue, but then closed it and placed his hands on the armrests, pushing up with a small grunt and shifting into the isle seat. Hannah helped him scoot into the window seat, then got his legs situated. She almost gasped as she gently moved them – they were so small, almost like sticks. She knew that people in wheelchairs atrophied, but looking at the man's upper body (not that she was staring) it didn't seem natural.

She told him a few safety rules that would apply to him and not other passengers because of his situation. She gave him her name, saying that if he needed to go to the bathroom or get up for any reason during the flight, that she would be his attendant. She saw something spark in his eyes, and a slightly mischievous grin spread across his face at her comment, but it was quickly gone. Hannah asked one last time if he needed anything, then left the plane to go and help the next passenger.

The next time she saw the Mr. Harkness, they were about to take off. She had finished going over all of the safety information that the passengers needed to hear and was going on one last quick round, checking to make sure that all the passengers were seated, their seatbelts securely fastened, and all electronic devices were turned to the off setting. Hannah stopped at the row that Jack Harkness was on and frowned. The man was sitting there, talking on his cell phone.

"Sir, I need you to turn that off, please." Why was it always the cute ones who caused the most trouble? Hannah shook her head, getting a little annoyed as he continued to talk. "Mr. Harkness, please turn off the phone, we are getting ready to take off."

Then the voice on the other end of the line said something, and his face turned ash white. He quickly hung up the phone and looked at Hannah, his eyes fixated on hers. "Stop the plane."

A shocked look crossed Hannah's face, her eyebrows rising and her jaw slacking a bit before she recovered. "Excuse me?"

"I _need _you to stop the plane!" He said, louder this time, his hands scrambling at the seat belt, puling the metal flap back, unbuckling himself. Hannah stood there, unsure of what to do. He was all the way by the window, and she didn't want to crawl over two other passengers to get to him. She gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sir, I'm sorry, we can't. _Please_ get back into your seat!"

But Jack Harkness didn't listen. He pushed himself up out of his seat and tried to get out to the small walkway, desperate to stop the plane. The two people in his row were unsure how to react, and moved their legs out of the way for him. He managed to make it between the rows before collapsing onto the dirty floor, his eyes screwed shut as he lay there, feeling the plane vibrate beneath him as it rolled toward the takeoff lane.

Hannah leaned down, wrapping her arms under his armpits, trying to help him up. He went limp, and Hannah – being an average sized woman – was unable to pick him up. She let him go and grabbed the in-flight phone, dialing the cockpit. "I need some help out here, please."

By then, several of the passengers were wondering what was going on. Several were standing up, trying to see. Others just gave the man in the middle of the isle a strange look.

Hannah hung up the phone several seconds later, and the other two flight attendants came to assist her.

"Please! I _need_ you to stop the plane!" He yelled as the only male steward attempted to pick him up, all the while saying in a neutral – albeit strained – tone that he needed to calm down and get back into his seat. Jack ignored him. "Please! You don't understand….I screwed up! I…I hurt him…and-and I never told him goodbye, and now his fiancé is dead and he's all alone and I'm going to be halfway around the world and will never be able to tell him I love him unless you stop this plane!"

He struggled with the three stewards, every second his flails getting weaker, realizing that they were still heading for takeoff. Once the plane's wheels left the ground, it would all be over.

Hannah asked for the two women sharing Harkness' row to please vacate while they situate him, and offered to move them to other empty seats if they weren't comfortable sitting next to him. The woman on the very end took her up on her offer and moved. The other woman, however, just jutted out her chin and stood up, blocking the flight attendants from putting Jack back into the seat.

Hannah gaped in shock as the woman stood in her way, arms crossed, a no-nonsense look on her face. "Stop the plane." She said. "My vacation isn't worth his pain."

Jack stopped struggling all together and joined the flight attendants in staring at the woman, tears of gratefulness in his eyes. Then, several rows down, a man stood up. "Neither is my business meeting! I didn't want to go, anyway…"

Another person stood up, and another, and another, until half of the plane was standing or crouching in front of their seats, all chanting the same thing. "Stop the plane! Stop the plane!"

Hannah just stood there, amazed at the reaction of the passengers on the plane. The other two flight attendants were trying to get everyone to sit down, using those fake calm voices that she had used every day since joining the airlines. Emotions overtaking her, Hannah reached for the in flight phone once more, punching in the line to the cockpit. "Stop the plane." She said before hanging up.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!?" Seethed the steward.

Hannah just smiled. "You here the passengers, they want to get off the plane."

The man looked as if he was going to slap her. "You'll get fired!"

Hannah shrugged. "Never liked this job, anyway."

The plane started to slow down, and the passengers broke out into a cheer. Jack let out a loud whoop and laughed in amazement of it all, throwing his hands up into the air from his position on the floor. Then he slung his arms around Hannah's legs. "God, I could kiss you right now…"

Hannah just gave a small smile and bent down, trying to pick Jack up. The woman who had been sitting next to him helped her, and together they carried him to the front of the plane and out onto the tarmac, where a wheelchair was waiting. Jack yelled a thanks to everyone before he was carried off of the plane, and kissed both Hannah and the other woman soundly on the cheek. Then, Hannah escorted him back to the terminal, where she hailed a taxi cab for him before going home to work on her resignation.

Jack gave her a tearful thank-you before getting into the cab, heading back towards the hospital. He had a Welshman to save.

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**Oh my. I started to cry when I was writing this last bit. It may have had to do with listening to "I made it through the Rain" and "Angel" and "Right here waiting for you" by John Barrowman, but still...**

**Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, real life got in the way. Thanks to all of my reviewers and silent stalkers, I love you guys! Ok, this is the penultimate chapter, things are finally coming to a point. Hope you guys have enjoyed it so far, and keep on reading until the end.**

**I also want to thank Rhianastar, who pointed out a while ago that "You Could Be Happy" by Snow Patrol was a great song that went along with this fic, and I couldn't agree more after listening to it!**

**Find me on twitter at /kausingkayn.**

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He stood in the hallway, shrinking against the wall, wanting to be invisible, and feeling as if he had gotten his wish. He watched with empty eyes as the hospital bed was rolled out of the room, a body covered by a thin blanket on top of it. Ianto reached his hand out towards it, trying – needing – to touch it. At the last moment he pulled back, curling his fingers into his chest and pressing himself against the wall to prevent himself from collapsing. His whole body felt numb, his tears long ago causing his face to grow cold. His fingers and legs shook, and his throat constricted with the silent scream that had been slowly building inside of him. He asked himself the same question over and over again in his mind as he watched the bed grow further and further away – 'why?'

A hand touched his shoulder, trying to comfort him but he didn't respond. Words were spoken, but he was too far gone to hear them. He was retreating inside of himself – wanting to just curl up and go to sleep, hoping that, when he woke up, things would be back to how they were.

Then the touch was gone, and he was by himself in every sense of the word.

He let himself go – gave up – gave in – allowed his body to do what it wanted to. He sunk to the floor and just stayed there, his legs sticking out in the middle of the hallway, his arms laying limply by his sides. His head leaned back against the wall as his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. His breathing was ragged and irregular and loud, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. He would be content just to sit there and wallow in self-pity for the rest of his young life – because why shouldn't he? Everyone he knew gave him pity, so why shouldn't he?

'Except for Jack.' A small voice inside of his head said, and Ianto let out a half-cry half-laugh that sounded like a dieing creatures last breath. Jack Harkness was long gone, across the world, moving on with his life, like he himself should have a long time ago.

Then, that familiar squeaking filled his ears, and Ianto came back into his body. His head lulled to the side in order to give his eyes a clear line of sight down the long corridor – what he saw was impossible.

Captain Jack Harkness was coming down the hallway, wheelchair and all. Ianto closed his eyes tight for several seconds before re-opening them. Relief flooded him, the man was still there. "Jack…" He croaked out in a death-like whisper.

The man's wheelchair bumped lightly into his legs, and there was silence for a few moments as he struggled to get out of the chair and sit himself on the floor next to Ianto. When he was situated, the Captain leaned against the other man and threw his arms around him, holding him tight. "I'm so sorry Yan."

Ianto automatically buried his face into the other man's chest, sobbing into his shirt, grasping him tightly. Jack laid there, hugging the man within inches of death, his chin resting on the Welshman's hair, not saying a word.

"E-everyone…..l-leaves….s-she p-promised." Ianto cried into Jack's shirt, and the words positively broke Jack's heart.

**--xXx--**

The funeral was two days later. It was a sunny day – the type of day that Ianto wished was dark and rainy, but the sky wouldn't even give him that – cover for his tears. Even though it was warm, he stood by the open grave with a large heavy coat buttoned up to his throat, it's collar popped up, his chin buried under the hem. His face was pale as a ghost, and his hair stuck out in all different directions – he hadn't brushed it in so long. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red.

There was one other person at the funeral other than the priest and the men paid to lower the casket into the grave. This man was considerably shorter than Ianto, although that probably had to do with the fact that he was in a wheelchair. He wore an old World War II RAF coat, and looked more put-together than the Welshman. He wore a grim expression, but his eyes were dry, and his coat unbuttoned.

The priest droned in the background, but Ianto wasn't really listening. He never really did believe in all that God stuff anyway, even though Lisa did. He believed that the things he saw in his line of work wouldn't be possible if there really was an invisible man watching over them all and loving them. He had been completely alone before, and had felt nothing.

His right hand, deep within his coat pocket, fingered the slender engagement ring that he had been holding onto the past two years. It no longer brought a ghosted smile to his lips. In fact, all it did was remind him of what he would never have – could never have.

It was sad, how only two people showed. Although, Ianto knew that two years ago Lisa's family had taken part in their own funeral – minus the body. Ianto had refused to show up, refused to acknowledge that his fiancé was already dead. Everyone else had moved on, while he had been left in the past. He was so alone.

Something warm wormed itself into his left coat pocket, and Ianto startled, glancing to his left, where Jack sat, looking at him. Ianto didn't smile or say anything – he didn't have it in himself to smile. He did, however, pull his hand out of his pocket and wrapped his fingers around Jack's strong hang. He wasn't _completely_ alone – he had Jack. And for the moment, that was enough to keep himself there.

The funeral rites finished, the priest gave the go ahead for Lisa's casket to be buried. The pall-bearers lowered her into the ground, and then picked up shovels and proceeded to cover it with dirt. Ianto approached the edge of the grave and watched, for a moment considering just jumping in and allowing them to continue. The constant warmth from Jack's hand was the only thing that persuaded him otherwise. Ianto's right hand closed around the ring in his pocket, and before he could stop himself, he tossed it into the grave. The men with shovels didn't say a thing. They were around death all the time, Ianto thought. They dealt with it every day. They dealt with grief every day too. Did it become something normal, after a while?

Ianto let out a slow breath and grazed over the headstone. '_Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Fiancé._'

The two of them stood there until the dirt was replaced and the pall-bearers had left. The priest, on his way out, tried to offer words of consolidation to Ianto, but he had been met by a blank stare and a few whispers from Jack. Finally, they were alone in the cemetery.

"What now?" Ianto asked, his own voice sounding foreign and small to his ears.

Jack squeezed his hand gently and stared out past the headstone, past the cemetery, the trees. He glanced up and watched the sky. "The only thing we can do…move on."

"I…I don't know if I can." Ianto whispered, voicing his fears.

Jack tore his gaze away from the sky and locked eyes with Ianto, a fierce determination in his eyes. "You have to."

Silence. Ianto didn't move to say anything, there was nothing more that he could say on the topic. Then, Jack spoke again. "I know what we need."

**--xXx--**

The bar was small and old fashioned, but clean. The only source of music was the juke box sitting neglected in the corner, running through it's pre-selected songs. The place was almost empty, but those who were there stayed quiet, murmuring softly to their drinking buddies, or nursing their solitary drink by themselves. This was a place to come when you wanted to forget, not have fun.

Two men sat back in the corner – one in a booth, the other in a wheelchair. They had long ago surpassed beers for something a little more stronger – and judging by the amount of alcohol that they had already consumed, it was obvious that they were there to get absolutely pissed.

"…an' they start'd ta shout, 'Stop the plane!'" Jack proclaimed a bit louder, causing several eye-daggers to be shot his way, all of which he ignored.

The man sitting across from Jack let out a soft giggle and proceeded to drain his glass of whiskey before reaching for the bottle – the bar maid had long ago left it there, growing tired of walking back and forth. They had both come by way of taxi, so she hadn't need to worry about them leaving in their own vehicle.

"It. Was. EPIC." Jack waved his arms to prove his point, then laughed. Ianto gave a small smirk.

The table grew quiet as both men took a drink, then Ianto set his glass down, fiddling with it as Jack dove into his next story. That was how most of their trip to the bar had been so far – Jack talking about funny stories, sad stories, scary stories. About how he and his team mates had done all these crazy things – those stories came after the Captain was past the 'thoroughly pissed' stage of their drinking. He had stopped once to let Ianto talk, but the man had just stayed silent. He didn't have any exciting stories, not like what Jack told. He was a "simple PR guy," what kind of excitement was there in his life that he had wanted to recall at the moment?

Ianto cleared his throat, and stared into his glass. Jack immediately grew silent, waiting for the other man to say what he wanted. Minutes passed. "Um…how long will you be here?"

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Ianto cut him off quickly, his words jumbling all together into a string of syllables. "I mean, I know you missed your plane, but you'll be going to this institute, obviously, and, I mean, you see, I was wondering…wondering if your previous offer – of me…me going with you – was still open…?"

Jack stared at Ianto then, swallowing hard as he deciphered the young man's words. The Captain then grimaced and reached for the bottle, tempted to drain the whole thing, but knew it would make him sick. It was silent for so long that Ianto was getting ready to apologize. "You can't come, Ianto."

The man's heart instantly plummeted, and he felt the walls of his mind pull tighter. That was it, then. Jack would be gone, moving on with his life in a few days, and poor Ianto would once again be stuck to wallow in his grief. "I…I understand…I hurt you – I'm sorry, but I under…"

He paused as he watched Jack shake his head. When the Captain stilled his head, there were tears brimming in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice caught. "Y-you can't go, Yan, because I'm not going back…I can't."

Ianto froze, feeling sick to his stomach as he heard the words. His mouth grew dry, and all he wanted to do was waste away. He asked why, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew what Jack would say.

"The Doctor has a very long waiting list…that plane was my chance…" Jack spoke to the wooden table, unable to hide the tears, the feelings in his voice.

"Oh god…" Ianto said, shrinking in the booth as he himself started to cry. He put his head in his hands and shook his head. Why did he do it, why did he have to go and ruin Jack's life too?

"Don't." Jack said, anger in his voice. "Don't you _dare_ say you are sorry, Ianto Jones. I'm an adult, and I know how to make choices. I made one on that plane, and I wouldn't change it for the world. I know _exactly_ where I want to be, and who I want to be there with."

Ianto looked up at that, and when he looked in Jack's eyes, he didn't see regret, or anger, or spit. He saw caring, and understanding…and love. "You…you've done so much for me…why…?"

Jack reached across the table and took Ianto's hand, squeezing it hard. The younger man squeezed back. "Because you saved me, Ianto. You saved me on that roof that night, and you saved me every day after that…" _and because I Love you._ Jack wanted to lean across the table and kiss him, then. Kiss him fully on the lips and say those three words and then hug him and tell him that everything would be ok and that they would get through it together. But he couldn't, so instead he just gave a genuine smile – it was small, just the slight upturn of the corner of the lips – and asked the barmaid loudly if she would please call a cab.

"It's going to be ok." Jack whispered then, and for the first time in a long time, Ianto believed it.

**--xXx--**

Captain John Hart sat at his desk in his office at the UNIT headquarters in Great Britain, flipping idly through reports that he was supposed to have finished ages ago. He hadn't been given any new assignments in a while, and was growing quiet bored.

His thoughts drifted toward Jack, and he wondered briefly how the man was doing. He had wanted to go back and visit him several times, but never was able to bring up the courage to. The way that Jack has sounded when he told him to leave had positively broken John's heart, and he didn't want to make things any worse than they already were. They had had a great four years – though John still insists it was five – and he wasn't one to try and rekindle old loves, especially not one like what he had with Jack Harkness. That was a once in a lifetime experience, right?

But John wasn't one to just give up, and he shook his head, wondering what had gotten into him.

Then a knock came at the door, and John allowed a large, lecherous grin to grow on his face, and he put his red UNIT cap on, purposefully allowing it to slide sideways on his head. No matter who walked through that door, John was pretty sure there would be at least one good quality on which he could dote on – ah, the benefits of being single and unattached.

A young soldier came in then, carrying a large file. He looked like a rookie; cut out of the cloth that they use to make the uniforms. He saluted, then handed the file to John. The Captain just rolled his eyes then grabbed the information, opening the file and scanning the information. By the time he was finished, his eyebrows were well-above his hairline. "Who knows about this?" He asked.

The soldier cleared his throat. "Um, just you and me, sir. That's the only copy."

John frowned and stared at the young man, boring holes through his eyes. "Who?"

The soldier understood the silent question, and tried again. "Only you, sir."

John smirked and gave a good-hearted laugh. "Good lad, learnin' quick. Now go."

The soldier left, and John let out a large puff of breath and fell backwards into his chair, a heavy, twisted feeling growing in his gut as he read the file more thoroughly. So the computers were finally able to crack the coding in the messages that UNIT had uncovered between the enemy and the mole in Jack's special air force squad. John stared at the name printed within the first line of the text, and shook his head. He didn't understand how someone so decorated could do something so horrible.

John reached for the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. He let it ring twice, then hung up, letting out a large breath of hot air, knowing what he was about to do.

"If I loose my job, I'm bloody blaming you, Jack." He mumbled as he turned on his paper shredder.

Slowly, paper by paper, sheet by sheet, Captain John Hart destroyed the evidence, until all that was left was a pile of unreadable, scrap paper.

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**Ah, the return of John Hart, for those of you who love him. ^_^**

**Reviews?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: This is it, the final chapter of this story. I had a lot of emotions going into this chapter, and started crying more than once. The guy sitting next to me on the plane was reading over my shoulder, and I think I saw some glistening too – although it might have just been him reduced to tears by my strangeness…I dunno.**

**Also, thinking about joining LiveJournal. Yay? Nay?**

**I want to thank all of my reviewers and silent stalkers, without you guys this story never would have happened. Every time I thought about dropping this, I looked back on all the people reading it, and knew that I had to continue. You guys are totally awesome, to put simply, and I can never thank you enough.**

**I had a lot of fun writing this, and hope that my first dip into the AU was worthy. I truly enjoyed making up my own little world. So, without further ado, I present to you the ending of "To Save A Life."**

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That night, the two of them had hailed a cab, and Jack had given the taxi driver his address. It had been strange, reciting the street name and apartment complex that had been out of his life for such a long time. He barely frequented the place before the accident, most of the time sleeping in the barracks at his base, or at random hotels around the country. The flat was more of a place of residence that a home. In fact, Jack hadn't had somewhere he could call home for a long time. The last occasion he had used that word was when he had lived with John, and he had been young, stupid, and thought he was in love.

Ianto had helped Jack out of the taxi and back into his wheelchair when the taxi pulled up in front of the Captain's destination. Jack was getting prepared for his goodbye when the Welshman had asked a surprising question.

"Jack…" He had said, his voice slightly slurred from the alcohol and the internal pain. "I – can – I mean… If you want – can I stay here tonight? I'll – I'll take the couch…or the floor – or – I just don't want to be…alone."

Jack had flashed a reassuring grin at the man and nodded. "Of course, Yan."

They went into the building together, and rode the elevator up a few floors. Jack asked Ianto to get the key to his apartment from under his fluffy welcome mat. They entered the abode and Jack mechanically spelled out where the bathroom was, extra clothes, food. He had paused halfway through his tutorial, tears coming to his eyes as he realized for a moment he had forgotten where the bathroom was.

Ianto had nodded numbly, then started to walk toward the direction that Jack thought the bathroom was. The man himself wheeled into the kitchen.

Ianto was sidetracked by a table that sat next to a large couch. On the table was a ton of photographs, some in frames, some just propped up. Jack was in most of them, wearing that RAF coat of his. There was a black haired woman with a gap between her teeth in most of them as well, along with several other people in modern RAF uniforms. Ianto's eyes swept over the oriental young woman with the shy eyes, and the rough-looking man who was making crude gestures toward the camera. His heart skipped a beat when he locked onto almost familiar eyes. The face was different, and so was the hair, but the smile and the eyes were identical. Gray Harkness. Jack's brother. The one who had died. Lisa…

Ianto turned away, his eyes brimming with even more tears. He rushed from the room, wanting to stop his train of thought. He blundered into the bedroom, barely registering his movements as he stumbled through into the bathroom. It was a nice room, the walls a bland white, the curtain covered with an ugly pattern. It was so bare, so plain…so empty. Ianto closed the door and shed his clothes, slipping into the shower. He experimented with the temperature gauges until he managed to get it to a relatively comfortable temperature. He got under the water and closed his eyes, sighing as he let the warm water run down his body. He sagged under it's weight, and allowed his tears to mix in with the water droplets. He stood there for several minutes, not moving, his eyes closed, his head down. He didn't even think, he just let the water run over him.

His whole body began to shake, and he couldn't support himself any longer. Ianto slid down the wall of the shower until he hit the bottom, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. His elbow had hit the temperature control on the way down, and the water turned icy cold.

Ianto didn't care.

Jack was emptying out the kitchen fridge, taking the long-expired food out of the shelves and throwing it into the trash can with a vengeance. He felt so helpless, so weak. Once the fridge was empty, he moved on to the lower cupboards. Once those were done, he went to reach for the higher ones, and stopped himself.

He couldn't reach the higher cupboards anymore.

Suddenly angry, he slammed the door that he had currently opened shut and turned around. He couldn't go there, not again. He had his chance, and he chose something more important. Right?

Then Jack realized that Ianto had been gone a long time.

Remembering how he had felt after finding out what had happened to him, and knowing how much of a fragile state that Ianto was in at the moment, Jack became frantic. The shower was quiet slippery, and he was sure there was a razor somewhere in the bathroom.

His arms pumped against the wheels, Jack shot himself toward the bathroom. He was halfway through the entrance to the bedroom when his wheels caught on the slight rise in the ground. For some reason, the floor was uneven, a half-inch difference in the floor between the bedroom and the living room. Jack's wheelchair was unable to transition from the two levels smoothly, and, in result, crashed. Jack was thrown onto the floor, his wheelchair out of reach. Not caring about that at the moment, he pulled himself toward the bathroom. He heard the water running, but there were no sounds of movement.

"Ianto!" Jack cried out, past the panic stage now. "Ianto!"

He reached the door and flung it open, falling onto the bathroom tiles. Ianto glanced up from his position sitting in the tub and let out a strangled yell of surprise. Jack yelped as well, noticing that the younger man was naked. He scrambled out of the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it and breathing heavily. For a moment neither of them said anything. Ianto, on the other side of the door, recovered from shock long enough to turn off the water and turn a bright red.

Then, Jack started to laugh. It started as a soft chuckle, and then grew into a full out, hundred percent guffawing laugh. Ianto paused a moment, then joined in, unable to stop the laughter from pouring out of him. Then laughed until their sides hurt and they couldn't breath and tears came from their eyes. And then they laughed some more.

**--xXx--**

Ianto never left.

Jack wasn't sure when the Welshman had moved from becoming a guest to a formidable roommate. Maybe it was when Ianto moved from the couch to the guest bedroom, or maybe it was that night when Jack 'fell in' on him in the shower. If asked, neither of them would be able to give an answer.

They had stayed in the apartment for the next few days – wearing their pajamas, eating lots of takeout and pastries from the bakery down the street that delivered. They dove through Jack's DVD collected and sat in front of the telly, laughing and crying, sometimes because of the mood in the movie, and sometimes because they remembered something that their deceased loved ones had done.

It was a proper grieving session. Jack finally got the chance to mourn over the loss of all of his team members properly, and Ianto got to relive the passing of Lisa, this time for real. Some nights they would fall asleep on the couch, other's they would go to their own bedrooms, only to migrate to Jack's bed or Ianto's. Either way, in the morning when they finally woke up, they would be in the same bed.

A week passed before either of them made any contact with the outside world, other than the occasional food delivery call. Jack had caught Ianto on the phone to someone, the conversation was real hush hush, and as soon as the Captain had entered the room, Ianto had found some reason to hang up. Jack's curiosity grew.

Ianto looked really good in Jack's close – the Captain never stopped telling him that. However, the Welshman started to insist that they go shopping, for clothes, and food, and other small things that Ianto would need if he was really going to become Jack's roommate.

It had been another awkward conversation, the Welshman stuttering and whispering and all in all making it very difficult to understand. In the end, Jack had gotten tired of listening to Ianto beat around the bush, and quite plainly stated. "Yes, I need a roommate." He had also gone on about needing a driver, since he couldn't work the petals anymore, but the point had been made. Truthfully, Jack was relived that the other man had asked, after what had been going on the past few months, he wasn't sure he would be able to continue on being alone again.

The pictures of Jack's team has disappeared from the table the morning after they had arrived back at the flat, but slowly they were being put back up again. Ianto would catch Jack staring at the photos, running his fingers across them, or just talking to them every once in a while, though he never brought it up.

Jack heard Ianto on the phone one evening, calling his old landlord and letting her know that he would no longer need his flat, and that she could rent it out again, furniture, clothes, and everything included.

To sum everything up in a few words – both men were moving on.

On the day that Ianto had insisted they went shopping, the Welshman was busy putting away all the food that he had bought. It had been a very adventurous affair, the Captain not wanting to be there, and doing everything in his power to make sure that Ianto was suffering – he even went as far as refusing to push his own wheelchair.

Ianto was making sure he put everything that Jack had wanted to get in the lower shelves, while the foods and other ingredients he had turned his nose up at in the higher cupboards.

The sound of rubber hitting wood suddenly reverberated through the small flat, along with a long string of curses that came in the sound of Jack's voice. Sighing, Ianto put down the container of peanut butter he had been putting away and went to assist the man. Jack had been getting stuck a lot of lately, his wheelchair one of the most rudimentary kinds, and unable to maneuver well in small spaces. On these frequent occasions, Ianto tried to talk to Jack about buying a more flexible wheelchair, even going so far as to request an electric one. That had ended in things being thrown and even worse things being said.

"Ianto!" Jack yelled, annoyance in his voice. "I'm stuck! My bloody wheelchair wont fucking move!"

Ianto sighed again and walked toward the voice. The man got very explicit when angry. "Coming."

Jack looked up when the Welshman came into view, and muttered a few more choice words, using his arms to try and push himself through the doorway. However, he had attempted the passageway from an odd angle, and his right wheel was stuck in the doorframe. Ianto didn't say a word as he unclogged the door way, but grabbed the handle of the chair as Jack attempted to breeze past. "Jack."

"Ianto." The Captain replied snappily.

"You keep getting stuck…that wheelchair, it's not meant for long-term use like this." He explained, trying to keep his voice calm, knowing what would come next if he wasn't careful.

"There's nothing wrong with this one." Jack said icily.

"Yes, there is." Ianto pushed. Then, the chair was ripped from his hands as Jack spun around to face the Welshman.

Ianto was surprised by the look on his face. The anger that had been apparent in his voice didn't show on his face. Instead, there was a dark, desolate, hopeless look. "I can't, Ianto. I can't let go. I _won't_ let go. I have to walk again…I have to."

And Ianto understood everything. Letting go of the wheelchair and settling for a better one was admitting defeat. And Jack wasn't ready to let go of his legs yet. He wasn't ready to move on. Guilt tore through Ianto, knowing that it was his fault that Jack wasn't in some really nice institute, walking down the hallways.

"I…I'm sorry." He managed to choke out. "Really sorry."

Jack's eyes widened as he realized what he had said, and hurriedly tried to fix it. "Ianto! No, I didn't – "

But the Welshman had already slipped past him and ran for the front door. By the time Jack had turned around and gotten to the entrance of his flat, Ianto was pulling out of the driveway a few stories below.

Several hours passed, during which Jack spent his free time crying, cursing himself, breaking things, and crying some more. It was because of that that he felt somewhat humiliated when Ianto returned only seven hours after he had left. His face was solemn, and his eyes slightly red, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that caused Jack to wonder.

"Well, are you coming?" Ianto asked, his voice slightly wavering as he stood by the door. Now more curious than confused, Jack nodded slowly and followed the young Welshman out of the flat.

On the ride to – wherever they were going, Jack tried several times to speak to Ianto. Each time, however, he was met by silence, or some offhanded comment.

They rode for over an hour, until Ianto pulled up at a private airstrip base. Ianto rolled his car to the security entrance and put down the window, giving a small smile and handing the security guard there an ID, shortly after they were issued through. Jack's heart skipped several beats when he noticed where they were. The insignia on the guards jacket was the royal seal. They were at the Queen's private airstrip.

"What exactly did you do for a living, again?" Jack asked Ianto, his voice a whisper from the awe. He was pretty sure that a simple 'PR' didn't get to have first hand access to the Queen's airplanes.

Ianto gave a small, sly smile, and for the first time, Jack caught a glimpse of the devious young man behind the mask – a small bit of the Ianto Jones from two years ago. And he liked it.

"Officially, I was the public relations officer for a small publishing firm. Unofficially? I was the office manager for a small, secret group of men and women who worked directly for the Queen, protecting her from foreign and domestic threats. Took out the trash, cleaned up after them, organized the missions, cleaned up their messes. Like a nanny."

Jack was speechless for the first time since he could remember. He was looking at a young man who had worked _directly for the queen._ "The queen of England?" Jack asked stupidly, and Ianto gave out a chuckle.

"Yes, the Queen of England…Lisa was one of the field agents…" Ianto said then, his voice growing dark. "The Queen promised me that she would take care of Lisa's hospital bills for me after the accident…"

The car grew quiet, and nothing else was said until Ianto turned it off. Jack's mind was still reeling with the new information. He thought that the Welshman had been telling the truth, he couldn't believe he could lie like that. Although, when your job is to lie, he guessed it was second nature, protecting secrets like that.

But any thoughts about Ianto and his job flew right out the proverbial window when Ianto helped Jack out of the car. Because sitting right in front of them was an airplane. A beautiful, experimental airplane with the royal seal stamped on the side.

"The queen funds lots of projects." Ianto was explaining as he wheeled Jack toward the plane. "One of which was finding ways to allow handicap officers operate heavy machinery. This is the first working prototype fighter jet. It's maiden voyage was a few months ago, and has had a total of twelve logged flights, all by men who had lost the ability to use their legs. Short flights, but successful. Her highness is looking for more pilots willing to test new models coming soon. I convinced her to allow you a test run, to see if you would be interested in the job."

Ianto paused, and frowned a bit when Jack didn't say anything. He let go of the wheelchair and walked around so he could see Jack's face. "Jack?" He asked, wondering if he had upset the man in any way.

Jack was staring at the plane, his face full of wonder and awe and pure happiness. He turned to Ianto, and there were tears streaming down his face. "Ianto…I…"

He choked on his words and shook his head slowly, unable to find the right words to explain how he was feeling just then. Ianto just shrugged. "You saved my life, Jack. You sacrificed so much for me, it was the least I could do."

Jack couldn't help himself. He grabbed Ianto by the sleeve and pulled him in, giving him a passionate kiss. The Welshman became ridged for a moment, but slowly melted under Jack's touch, and began to reciprocate it. Jack lifted himself out of the wheelchair, using Ianto to support himself.

A cough came from behind then and the two released their embrace. Jack sat back down in the wheelchair, a but upset that the moment had been disturbed. He turned to look at Ianto, wondering how the man would take what just happened. But the Welshman had already slipped behind the wheelchair, and Jack couldn't see the blush that was prominent on his cheeks, or the shy, genuine smile that was spreading on his lips.

"Jack Harkness, I presume?" Said a female voice, the source of the cough. She was dressed in an air force outfit, her hands positioned strategically on her hips.

"_Captain_ Jack Harkness." Jack said, giving a large smile.

The woman returned it and nodded. "I'm Sarah, Sarah Jane. I'm going to be your co-pilot today, Captain."

Jack let out a shaky breath and nodded vigorously, still unable to believe that he was going to fly again, after everything that had happened.

The two of then headed toward the plane, leaving Ianto standing on the tarmac to watch. The Captain was assisted by Sarah, and together they entered the plane and got situated into the cockpit.

"I'm going to start in control, and when you feel comfortable, let me know. And please remember, this is a multi-million pound piece of government equipment, try not to damage it." Sarah said playfully, and Jack nodded.

"Yes ma'am."

Back on the tarmac, Ianto watched at the plane took off into the air. He could almost hear Jack's whoops of joy as the wheels lifted from the ground, and couldn't stop the large smile that was dominating his face. He watched until the plane disappeared into the sky, and then he kept watching.

"_Sato?"_

"_Here are ready to go, Captain."_

"_Harper?"_

"_I'm here already!"_

"_Costello?"_

"_Ready when you are."_

"_Harkness?"_

"_Right here with you, brother."_

"_Cooper?"_

"_She called in sick Jack, it's just us."_

"_Alright crew, let's go."_

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**The End**


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